Alone in the Woods

Light bounces off the heart-shaped locket sitting on the table catching Tris in the eyes, fireworks blurring her vision. Her tongue darts out over cracked lips as she turns away toward the wall, I don’t know why I keep that stupid thing. She pauses, thinking about when she found it. Sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, abandoned. Forgotten, just like her. Something about the way the glass surface splashed colors across her shoes made her smile so she picked it up and took it with her. Now it sat, not quite unwanted, as a reminder of Before.

--

The sun never really sets any more.

--

With her vision returning, she walks over to what was the ice box and opens it, knowing good and well she won’t find what she’s looking for. Inside a jar of pickles and some forest mushrooms stare back at her. She picks up the jar and drinks, wincing as the juice touches her cracked lips. Cheers, she thinks.

--

People thought that they could move to the Northwest to escape the drought. That the snowy mountains, abundant forests, and rivers would save them. But it was too late. The damage had been done and now all that was left was wait out the end. She remembers how California was the first place to erupt in violence when the wells went dry. The surrounding states blocking off their borders and trapping people in to fend for themselves. Money didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was water. If you had it you were hunted; if you didn’t, you learned to hunt.

Tris was lucky to be in the cabin already when things got really bad. She’d been keeping track of how high the temperatures rose year after year and taught herself how to build a water filtration system to clean water from the small lake in the middle of nowhere. That was almost a year ago. And Now the sun hardly set and the trees dried out and the lake was shrinking faster and faster. When was the last time someone made it out this far? Had it been two months, maybe three? Time didn't really matter anymore.

She assumed she made it longer than most folks after the first six months. Occasionally people would stumble into the forest near the cabin and leave backpacks and supplies when it got too hot, never managing to find the small lake hidden just a few more miles up the mountain. Back then she would venture out and set traps, exercise and try to stay strong so she could protect herself if necessary. Now it took everything she had to go out to the lake for her bucket of water twice a day. She’d look for mushrooms while the filter did its work, and then she’d creep back inside her cabin, hoping that what little tree coverage was left kept it cool enough for her to get some sleep.

--

She walks over to the door of the cabin and braces herself, slowly stepping outside, closed eyes easing her into the brightness. She listens to the breeze in the branches, the few squirrels nearby chittering to themselves. I guess I’ll get this over with before it gets too hot. She leans down and grabs a bucket from inside the door. Let’s go old friend, she thinks and makes her way to the lake. Shoes and all she walks in, her shirt pooling around her waist. She fills the bucket and pauses to lean herself back until her head dips beneath the surface, the cold water easing her sunburned scalp. Lingering a second more she gathers her bucket and heads towards the side of the cabin to the filtration system.

She dumps the water in and flicks the switch, the soft humming of the machine assuring her that she’ll make it at least another day. SNAP. She spins around, eyes darting to the trees looking for any signs of movement. Her breath catches in her throat, heart pounding through her chest when she doesn’t see anything. It was probably just the squirrels again, or a deer. Get ahold of yourself!

She takes a deep breath and listens. SNAP. “H-hello,” she croaks out. No response. “Hello?” she says again, a little louder this time.

“Hello,” a man’s deep voice rumbles from behind her. She starts to turn around but is struck—everything going dark.